


The Silent Song We Share

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Ashe's siblings - Freeform, Felix Birthday Week, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22834648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Felix is the lead guitarist in an up and coming rock band. But whether they're playing for 10 people in a dive bar or selling out a concert hall, there's one silver-haired, green-eyed fan who shows up for each and every performance.One day, Felix decides to confront this strange super fan.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 20
Kudos: 91
Collections: Felix Birthday Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for day two of Felix BDay Week, prompt "Modern AU"! I wanted to write a rock band AU with sexy tattooed guitarist Felix! 
> 
> THE EXPLICIT RATING ONLY APPLIES TO CHAPTER 2. Chapter 1 is teen at worst. 
> 
> #
> 
> For this and the rest of Felix BDay Week, I am doing ASHELIX WEEK. I am posting 7 new fics. On Ashe Week (in March), I'll be posting Chapter 2 of ALL seven fics. So come back then for the conclusion to these stories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!
> 
> Join the [Ashelix discord](https://discord.gg/cjFuCx) to hear my incoherent screeching about my beloved rarepair!

The final chord screeched. The note faded, quivering as it quieted. A hush replaced the music that had filled the concert hall, pressing tight into every corner, shaking the floorboards, slapping against the vaulted ceiling. The crowd caught its breath an instant before cheering shattered the silence.

Felix let his hands relax, let his fingers ease off the strings of his guitar. Sylvain stood before him, even taller than usual on a platform at the front of the stage. He waved the rest of the band forward. Dimitri and Felix strode to his sides; Ingrid left her drum set to join them as the entire band took a bow before the screaming crowd.

Felix swept his eyes over the throng as he straightened up out of the bow. He looked past the jumping, shrieking front row, past the faintly visible middle section, looked past even the back rows. And there, tucked into a dark corner way back by the doors, stood a small, slight figure with silver hair. With stage lights blaring in his face, Felix could see only a silhouette, but he didn't need any more.

Later, when even Sylvain had had enough of the crowd and the entire band was backstage, relaxing, shrugging out of sweaty clothes and cracking open beer or water or both, Felix said, “I saw him.”

“Again?” Ingrid said.

“Are you sure?” Dimitri said.

Felix nodded. “It was him. It's always him.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. He was shirtless and using the flowing garment he'd worn for the show to mop off his face. A long tattoo of a rose curled down his side. “Cut him a break,” he said.

“It's weird,” Felix said. “He's at every show. Every single one.”

“I think it's kinda sweet,” Sylvain said. “It's fans like him who got us here in the first place, don't you think? We were nothing and that guy was still coming to every show.”

Felix wanted to retort, but just then the door to the back room opened and Dedue stepped in, crisp and clean in a suit with his hair neatly tied back.

“Well done tonight,” he said. He sat beside Dimitri, offering him a quick peck before addressing the rest of the band. “The bus will be ready soon. We ought not linger. We can discuss the show at practice tomorrow.”

“Not even one day off, eh, Manager?” Sylvain said. “You'd think selling out a place like this would earn us a little rest.”

“You did not sell out,” Dedue said.

“We were close,” Sylvain insisted.

Felix ignored them. He wanted out of the tight clothes they'd put him in for the show. They always made him wear the kinds of shirts that showed off the sleeve of tattoos on his right arm, a phoenix screeching among flames. He switched out the gaudier plugs and lips rings he wore for performances for the simpler steel piercings he kept in most of the time. A quick shower and he was back to a hoodie and jeans and packing up his guitar. He didn't wait for the others before heading for the tour bus.

But he paused when he stepped outside. The exit he'd used was discrete, tucked into an alley that would shield him from the concert goers filtering out. He could see them, though, shadows that flared into color as they passed under the street lights. And among them, nearly washed out by the glow of the streetlight, was the man with the silver hair, the man who'd been at every damn one of their shows, even back when they were playing dive bars for crowds of three.

Felix took a couple steps toward the man before he stopped himself. They weren't famous, not really, but anyone willing to come see them in a venue like this liked them enough to want photos and autographs. So he hung back in the shadows of the alley, watching the silver-haired man fiddle with his phone. He seemed to be scanning the dark for something, perhaps a car or bus. And he was alone. Everyone else was filtering away in clumps and clusters, but he stood by himself under the streetlight, plain and unassuming.

Some magnetism, perhaps the unwavering pressure of Felix's eyes on his back, made the silver-haired man turn then--turn and look directly into the alley, directly at Felix. The man jerked. Felix put up a hand before he could flinch away and, for reasons he'd never quite understand, beckoned him toward the alley.

The man looked around, but Felix just waved again. Slowly his feet unglued from the pavement and he took halting steps toward Felix.

The man slipped into the inky shadows, but did not come too close, leaving several steps between himself and Felix. He clasped his phone against his chest in both hands like a swimmer clinging to a buoy.

“Who are you?” Felix said.

“I'm...” His voice faltered, wavered. “Ashe.”

Felix appraised him unabashedly, from his simple sneakers to the hoodies he layered against the cold. Even in the dark, Felix could see the tear in one jacket's elbow and the missing zipper on the other.

“You come to all our shows,” Felix said. “Every single one.”

Ashe just nodded.

“Why?”

Ashe tilted his head as though confused. “I like your music,” he said.

“No one likes our music that much. Only you.”

“That's not true,” Ashe said. His voice was gaining strength as he talked. “You have some really devoted fans. It's not just me. I mean, sure, it was mostly me in the beginning, but the group has really grown.”

“Group?”

Ashe shrank into his shoulders. “The ... the fan club.”

“There's a--” Felix could not bring himself to say it. Sure, Sylvain had bragged about a “fan club” at some point, but he'd assumed that was just Sylvain on his usual bullshit. “Nevermind,” he said. “I don't care about that.”

“Then ... uh...”

“Why?” Felix said. “Why do you still come to every show? What do you want?”

Ashe took a step backward, as though the force of Felix's suspicion had pushed him away. “I just want to hear you play.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, searching for the lie, but this Ashe guy looked utterly defenseless before him.

“But why?” Felix said. “Why us? Why not some other band?”

Ashe shrugged. “Honestly ... I ... I found your music at a tough time. It was just an accident. I was walking past a bar and I heard that one song, 'Loss,' and I just ... stopped. I couldn't look away. It was ... maybe it was just the right place at the right time, but it was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment. I wasn't even old enough to go into the bar, but I stood there at the window and watched.”

Felix laughed wryly. “I wasn't old enough either, but Sylvain talked us inside.”

Ashe smiled. “I could believe that.” He put up his hands. “Oh, no, not that I know any of you or anything, I just, I get that impression.”

“You aren't wrong,” Felix said. “He is mostly how he appears to be.” Ashe was hanging on his every word as though Felix was dilvuging the very secrets of the universe. Something in that adoring look tugged at Felix. He couldn't help but push one more time. “Why that song? What happened?”

Ashe sobered. He fussed with his phone for a moment before answering. “My adoptive father died. That very same day.”

Felix swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I'm sorry. I--”

Ashe shook his head. “It's OK now. Your music helped. I know it sounds silly, and maybe crazy, but it really did. I'm still grateful for that. So ... I keep coming back, even five years later.”

“But--” Felix heard the door open behind him, back down the alley.

“Yo, Fe, we're going,” Sylvain called. Moments later his arm was over Felix's shoulders. Felix felt Sylvain start. “Well, if it ain't our biggest fan. Don't let Felix chase you off, OK?”

“I ... He didn't ... I...” Ashe said. He stepped back, his eyes widening as he took in the rest of the band. Ashe nodded his head toward them. “Thank you for the show. I have to go.” He turned before Sylvain or Felix could stop him, hurrying back into the dark streets. Felix felt an odd pang watching him go. He told himself he simply had more questions, but a traitorous voice in the back of his mind sneered that it was more than mere curiosity.

“You scared him off,” Sylvain said.

“Me?” Felix said. “You're the one who chased him away just now.”

Sylvain slapped his shoulder. “You gotta be nicer to the fans.”

“I didn't--” Felix bit down on the rest of what he might say. He was far too exhausted to care at this point. He let Sylvain chatter on, let him pull Felix toward the bus at the opposite end of the alleyway. But all the while Felix's mind was on Ashe.

The idea that someone's father could die and the same day they'd be drawn to his music... It made Felix's shoulders feel heavy, made his back want to hunch. He couldn't help a complete stranger with something like that. Yet apparently he had, he and Ingrid and Dimitri and Sylvain. Somehow their silly plucking and singing had meant something to Ashe at just the moment when he'd most needed it.

And he kept coming back. Over and over. Seeking that connection again.

It terrified Felix to his core.

#

Felix's fingers fumbled over the string. He pushed on, blurring a chord, skipping a section of his solo to stumble back to the safety of the chorus. Dimitri shot him a glance from across the stage, but Felix put his head down, letting his loose hair fall over his face as Sylvain belted out the final note.

Later, backstage, Dimitri confronted him.

“That was sloppy,” he said.

“Whatever,” Felix grumbled. He wiped sweat from his face and neck, bundling up his hair.

“It's not like you,” Dimitri pushed. “What happened out there?”

“No one but you even noticed so who cares?” Felix said.

“He's right,” Ingrid cut in.

Felix glared over at her, but he'd never succeeded in intimidating Ingrid and his snarling certainly wasn't about to start working now. She wore a breezy tank top after the show, the ends of the tattoo sprawled across her back and shoulders just peeking out. 

“We're just worried,” Ingrid said. “You're the most consistent member of this band. You've pushed us through shows when one or two of us were barely holding it together. We need you. So what's going on? What's got you rattled?”

Felix sighed. Ingrid had always had a way of forcing herself past his defenses. She was blunt, direct; even when saying something like “we need you” it didn't sound stupid and sentimental, not coming from her.

“I don't know,” Felix said. “I'll fix it.”

Ingrid seemed content to drop the subject, but Sylvain jumped in. “Our biggest fan was missing. Did you notice?”

Felix's whole body tensed. “No.”

Sylvain smirked. “You fucking liar. I saw you looking for him.”

“That's ridiculous,” Felix said.

“Hey, I'm not here to judge it,” Sylvain said. “He's cute. Don't you think so? I never saw him up close until that show the other night. Those freckles have broken more than one heart, I'd wager.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sylvain. Goddess. Do you even bother listening to yourself speak?”

“So defensive,” Sylvain said.

“Cut it out, Sylvain,” Dimitri said. “One random fan isn't the issue here. Felix, is this going to continue to be a problem? Our schedule is packed. We need you at your best. I could take over some of your solos, but not all of them.”

Felix jerked to his feet, grabbing his jacket.

“Where are you going?” Dimitri said. “You didn't answer me.”

“Outside,” Felix said. “I don't need this shit.”

He heard Dimitri start to protest, but Ingrid stalled him. Felix stomped out of the dressing room before the band could protest further, pushing past Dedue just as their manager reached the door. It took an effort not to run down the hall for the exit with Dedue's eyes crawling on his back.

The air outside felt like the first breath Felix had taken in hours. A rush of cool, crisp air filled his lungs. He let out a sigh, leaning against the brick in the alley between the concert venue and another building.

“Fuck,” Felix breathed. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back.

_You fucking liar._

“Shut up,” he muttered. But the accusation echoed in his mind. Worse still, he could do absolutely nothing to deny it.

He'd just have to ignore it and wait for the nagging feeling to go away, he decided. It was just adrenaline and shit. It's not like he had time for any of that stuff anyway. The band's upcoming schedule was relentless. They were on the cusp of breaking through, but that meant every single moment had to be spent performing, promoting or practicing. He was probably just searching for an easy out, a source of relief that was uncomplicated and undemanding.

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he started walking. Once, when they were still so small they were playing shows for handfuls of friends, he'd taken a walk after every show, shaking off the adrenaline and doubt and excitement. That became far more difficult as they gained a fan base. 

He peered around the edges of the alley. There was still a crowd outside the concert venue, a crowd he honestly didn't have the energy to deal with.

He looked the other direction, and there, bright under a streetlight, alone and shocked, stood Ashe.

Felix froze. Ashe was looking right at him, pale as moonlight, punctuated by jade eyes that went wide as he blinked at Felix.

Felix glanced back at the crowd. It was gradually breaking up and dispersing. Felix threw up his hood, hunching his shoulders before left the alley and veered sharply toward Ashe.

“Walk,” he said as he passed Ashe.

For a moment, he was alone. Then he heard a flurry of footsteps and Ashe was beside him. Felix said nothing at first, turning another corner to put a street between them and the venue. He didn't stop walking, but he slowed a bit and finally looked at the man beside him.

Ashe was nearly the same height as him, but the way he hunched made him seem small somehow. Corny as it was, Felix couldn't shake the feeling that he was looking at starlight when he saw Ashe's hair shimmering in the dark.

“What are you doing here?” Felix said.

“I...” Ashe glanced over at him, his eyebrows twisted with doubt. “I was listening to the show.”

“But I didn't see you inside.” Felix hated himself the moment the words left his lips.

Ashe's face went pink in the darkness. He looked down, his hair hiding some of the blush. Felix found himself wishing he could still see it unobscured.

“I was outside,” Ashe said. His voice was so soft Felix nearly missed it.

“Outside?”

Ashe just nodded.

“Why?” Felix said. “You come to every show. Why not this one?”

“It's just--” Ashe took a steadying breath, shooting Felix another nervous look. “Last time, when I met you, it seemed like, well, like you thought I was creepy or weird or something. And I didn't want you to think I was a crazy stalker so I just ... stayed outside.”

Felix's throat tightened around a barrage of words.

“I'm sorry,” Ashe said.

“For what?”

“You seem upset,” Ashe said.

“I'm--” Felix bit down on the rest of the sentence. “I had a rough show.”

“Yeah,” Ashe said.

“What's that mean?”

“Oh--Oh no, I just meant, well, I could kinda hear it. But you were still amazing. I doubt anyone but me could even tell. I just...” Ashe withered inward, seeming to get even smaller. “I mean ... It's fine. It happens to everyone, right?”

“It doesn't happen to me.”

“Well, that's true,” Ashe said. “To be honest...”

“What?” Felix said.

“I ... was starting to think you weren't even human,” Ashe said. “It was almost reassuring to hear you miss a note or two.”

“Tell that to Dimitri. He found it less than 'reassuring.'”

“I'm sorry,” Ashe said.

“Stop apologizing.” It came out harsher than Felix intended, but he couldn't keep the bite from his tone. This whole night seemed increasingly full of frustrations. He found himself chewing on the spider bite-style lip rings at one side of his mouth. 

“I'm--” Ashe's teeth clicked as he clamped down on the apology. “I still enjoyed the show.”

“From outside.”

“Yeah.”

Felix shook his head. “That's even weirder.”

“Oh.” Ashe deflated further.

Felix's patience hit a limit. He stopped, grabbing Ashe's shoulder to pause him. Ashe's eyes went wide when Felix gripped him.

“If you want to see us play, just fucking come inside like everyone else,” Felix said.

“OK...” Ashe said.

Pink lingered in Ashe's cheeks, making his freckles bright little pinpoints of light against his skin. Felix's hand tightened of its own accord. He removed it with a jerk, as though Ashe's shoulder was suddenly too warm to touch.

“Fucking--just--just make up your mind,” Felix said. “Stalk us or don't.”

“I'm not a stalker.”

“Prove it.” Felix didn't know why he said it. Maybe he was looking for a fight. Maybe he just wanted to push against something, anything, and feel it push back.

But Ashe didn't push. Those jade eyes dimmed. The blush faded to paleness. “OK,” he said. “Good night.”

And he left.

Felix watched him go, hands clenched in his pockets. “Fuck,” he hissed. He'd missed everything he'd reached for this night, fumbled every chord, mangled every song. He'd pushed everything just a little too far and been left with a tangled mess, his guitar strings knotted, tense, ready to snap.

#

Ashe wasn't at the next show.

Not inside. Not outside. Not anywhere.

The strings began to snap. One broke on stage, forcing Felix to improvise through half a song before the band could call a hasty intermission and he could replace it.

At practice, Felix shouted nearly as often as he played, and his bandmates shouted right back. In his more lucid moments, he could not truly blame them. His playing was shit; he knew that better than any of them. Even when he wasn't breaking strings, he was missing notes, jumbling solos. Dimitri played a whole song without him one night, leaving them with no bass until Felix could collect himself and come back on stage.

Dedue was perhaps even less pleased with him than his bandmates, though. Club and venue owners were starting to demand answers when the band arrived late and played poorly. The harried manager had few answers to offer.

Felix began to feel like his entire life was in those guitar strings, snapping one by one. He was down to only a few by the day he stormed out of practice, throwing his guitar to the ground and grabbing nothing but a hoodie on his way out.

No one bothered chasing him.

He stomped into the city, heading for the edges, searching for a park or somewhere where he could be more alone. He knew there was one place a few blocks from where they practiced. The day was annoyingly bright and hospitable as he dodged through traffic and cut between buildings to reach it.

His phone buzzed as he walked. It was Ingrid. _Get your shit together. They're not going to deal forever._

He shoved the phone back in his pocket. What a shock. They didn't want to “deal.” No one wanted to “deal” with Felix. Not now, not before, not ever. It wouldn't be the first time Dimitri got fed up enough to cut him out; it wouldn't be the last.

The park finally appeared, a breath of open space among the clutter of the city. Felix exhaled as he stepped from concrete to dirt, his feet following a path at random.

The park was little more than a strip of grass and trees penned in by the city streets on one side and the river on the other. It was narrow, but even so, as Felix made his way to the path that traced the water's edge, the noise of the city dulled.

He walked. As he had so many times before. He'd stormed out of his first practice when he was still in high school, spending his time playing his father's old guitar instead of studying or doing homework. Sylvain had been a terrible influence, encouraging him to ditch his responsibilities and join his band. At first, he'd assumed it was destined to fail, just like most of Sylvain's bizarre schemes. But then they'd roped in Ingrid and Dimitri and just ... kept going, even booking a couple gigs.

Maybe this was the right time for it to end. They had a following, but they weren't big. They didn't have a recording contract or anything. Enough money to scrape by, with the help side gigs, but not enough money to live off of right now.

And yet... The thought of setting aside his guitar for good made Felix feel like an un-tightened string, loose and untethered. Worthless. Ever since he was a kid and his brother died, he'd clutched the neck of his guitar like a lifeline. Hardly a day went by when he didn't pluck at the strings, letting his fingers wander, letting them create of their own accord. He could do it without the rest of the band, probably, but it wouldn't be the same. He'd never played without them. It would feel ... hollow.

He cursed at himself as he turned back toward the city streets. He had to return and apologize and somehow get his shit together. But it was more difficult than it sounded. He just couldn't keep his hands steady. It was like his mind fled as soon as he touched his guitar. And they all knew the cause.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fucking fuck.”

Why now? Why this way? Why _him_? But pretending it wasn't happening wouldn't fix it.

“Fine,” he hissed.

He started back the way he'd come. The city was dark now, the streetlights floating on the surface of the river like fireflies. The cars crawled by, bursts of light flaring between the trees. Felix remained in the quiet of the park as long as he could before turning toward the street.

And of course, of _fucking_ course, he was there, standing at the other end of the crosswalk with grocery bags in his hands.

Neither of them moved when the light changed and the crosswalk sign lit up. Ashe recovered first, crossing the intersection and walking right up to Felix.

“What are you doing here?” Felix said.

Ashe just lifted the grocery bags.

Felix put a hand to his forehead. “How? Just ... how?”

“I always walk this way,” Ashe said. “It's the closest grocery store to my apartment.”

“Of course it is.” Felix heaved a sigh, massaging his forehead. The goddess herself seemed intent on vexing his every step lately.

“Are you OK?” Ashe said.

Well, there was no help for it now. Felix had little choice but to plunge forward. “Come to the next show.”

Ashe shrank a little, his plastic shopping bags rustling as he shifted from foot to foot. The traffic in the intersection started back up, filling the silence with a rumbling drone.

Ashe started toward the water and Felix followed. A hush encapsulated them as they paced the riverside, the shush of Ashe's bags like the whispering of the trees' leaves. They were always meeting in the dark like this. Felix found himself longing to see Ashe by daylight, the sun pouring over his silver hair and flecking his jade eyes with gold.

Felix shook himself. “You haven't answered.”

“I know,” Ashe said. “Neither have you.”

Felix sighed through his nose. “No,” he said. “I'm not OK. Alright? Ever since ... ever since that first time we met, I ... my playing hasn't been the same.”

“I know,” Ashe said.

“Of course,” Felix grumbled.

“I'm sorry,” Ashe said. “It wasn't a criticism.”

“Your turn,” Felix said. “Will you come to the next show? It's in a week.”

“I know,” Ashe said. “But...”

“But?”

“I'm not sure I should.”

Felix stopped, halting Ashe with a hand to his shoulder. He used only a light tough, but Ashe paused, staring down at his feet. “Why?” Felix said. He wasn't sure what he was really asking, which “why” he needed answered first.

When Ashe looked up at him, his face was bunched up with uncertainty. “I feel like I'm ruining everything,” he said. “I just wanted to listen to your music, but every time I get near I just make it worse. I'd rather stay away than destroy the band.”

Felix flinched. His chest felt tight and constricted. He had to dodge Ashe's eyes before he could speak again. “It's not you.”

“It feels like it is.”

Felix grimaced at the ground. From this angle, he could see the fraying at the bottom of Ashe's jeans, the way his sneakers were too big and too old and starting to give away at the edges.

“It's not,” Felix said. He dared look back up. “It's me. I'm ruining it. But--but I think I could play again. If.”

“If?” Ashe's mouth hung open as though he'd forgotten to breathe.

“If ... you were there.” Felix swallowed around the lump that clogged his throat. He clenched his hands, his nails biting into his palms as he awaited a response, any kind of response.

“I think that might be a bad idea,” Ashe said.

The string tightening in Felix's chest snapped. He felt his shoulders slouch down his back, felt his blood go cold. “Fine.”

“I'm sorry,” Ashe said. “I don't want to be a burden. I really think you're better off without me.”

“I'm telling you we're not,” Felix said.

“Even so,” Ashe said. Despite his soft voice, Felix felt the finality in those words. And he couldn't argue. Not with Ashe. Not with Dimitri. Not with Ingrid or Sylvain or Dedue.

That was it then. They'd all gotten tired of him at last, even Ashe, whom he'd only just met.

“Fine,” he said again. “I'm sorry I bothered you.”

Ashe did not protest when Felix turned away, heading in the opposite direction along the river. He kept waiting to hear Ashe call his name or try to stop him, but it never happened. Felix left, and no one bothered to ask him to stay.

#

He avoided the next practice.

Ingrid begged him to attend the final one before the show and he agreed only reluctantly.

The buses were ahead of schedule that day and Felix had luckily caught his just before it left the stop. But that put him at the studio half an hour early, just in time to see a man leaving, a guitar slung over his back. He startled when he saw Felix, who stood frozen, the blood draining from his face.

He entered the studio with shaking hands, finding his bandmates already waiting in the practice room.

“Getting an early start,” Felix said.

It wasn't a question, but Sylvain nodded. “Heya, Felix. Yeah, we were just tuning up. Good timing.”

“Was it?” He glared at each of them in turn. Sylvain's smile wavered. Ingrid studied her hands. Dimitri glared right back. “That guy who just left...”

There was a beat of silence. The rest of the band shared a glance. Finally, Dimitri broke the stalemate.

“What do you want us to do, Felix?” he said. “You storm out of practice, refuse to come to the next one, botch your solos. Are we supposed to just sit around and let you take us down with you as you self-destruct?”

“You could try talking to me,” Felix said.

“As though that's ever worked,” Dimitri said.

“You aren't the easiest guy to reach,” Sylvain said.

“Maybe if you bothered trying--”

“What? So you can storm out and feel self-righteous again?” Dimitri said. “We don't have time for your shit, Felix. The show is tomorrow. And if you can't perform--” he jabbed a finger at the door “--maybe Eric can.”

“Eric?” Felix spat. “Eric? Sure. Great. Call him up then. Get Eric back in here to play with you. I'm fucking done.”

Ingrid ran to intercept him before Felix could leave. “No,” she said. “Felix. Come on. Stop. Don't do this.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you want this,” Ingrid said. “I know how bad you want this.”

“I can do it without them.” 

“Maybe,” Ingrid said. “But you'd be starting all over. You'd be back to playing dives for a couple friends. Stay with us. Prove them wrong.”

“They've made up their minds,” Felix said. “I have nothing to prove.”

“Felix,” Ingrid snapped. “Shut up. Play. One good practice. One good show. And maybe we can put this shit behind us. Can you give me that? Two days. Will you try for two more days?”

Felix seethed, grinding his teeth. He didn't want to give them two more _seconds_ , let alone two more days, but the sliver of his brain that wasn't burning in rage knew she was right. Starting again from scratch would be a long and horrible slog. He didn't need to like Dimitri and Sylvain to play with them. He could get through this. Just two more days.

“Fine,” he gritted.

“Good,” Ingrid said. She looked around him at the rest of the band. “OK? We good? Can we fucking play now?”

“Fine by me,” Sylvain said, his light tone so obviously forced it grated against Felix's ears.

“Sure,” Dimitri grumbled.

The practice proved grueling, but Felix played. Almost out of pure spite, he didn't miss a single note, tearing through his solos with reckless rage. They weren't beautiful, but they were serviceable, and even Dimitri could say little about it by the time they packed up for the evening.

Felix spent the night trying to get his fingers and his thoughts under control. Serviceable might let him survive the show, but he couldn't last long this way. They would eventually bring in “Eric” or someone similarly bland and Felix would be gone, no longer worth the trouble. Never worth the trouble.

Their dressing room was a tomb the next day, quiet and still and cracking at the edges. Felix pulled on tight pants criss-crossed with ridiculous zippers and a glossy black shirt that exposed his tattoo sleeve, layering silver necklaces over it. He pulled his tie out of his hair, brushing it smooth. He hated how they insisted he always leave it down for shows, but at least this time it could be a curtain for him to hide behind.

Ingrid patted his shoulder after Dimitri and Sylvain had already left to take the stage. “You can do this,” she said. “You're the best guitarist I've ever met, Felix. Just forget about them and do what you do.”

He squashed the instinct to be angry with her. Ingrid was the only one left who was reaching out to _him_ rather than avoiding him or pushing him away.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

She smiled, just a tug at one side of her mouth, and gave him a little nod. “Let's go,” she said.

They followed their bandmates to the stage. Felix was announced last. He put up a hand as he emerged into the blinding stage lights. It made the crowd a faceless mass, a blur of jostling black. Even so, he couldn't help looking, hoping to see a flash of silver as his eyes adjusted to the light.

But there was no splash of silver among the crowd, no green eyes watching him from afar. Felix's heart sank. And in its place was ... nothing. Not a hole. Not a wound. Just nothing. 

He could do this, he realized. He could play passably, robotically, inspiring neither hatred nor love. And then? And then probably get kicked out of the band.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. That was all he could think as Sylvain stopped addressing the crowd and gave Ingrid the signal to start tapping her sticks together. She smashed them down against her drums, slamming into the first note of the first song as though trying to jolt Felix back to life. Her hits reverberated through him, pulsing in place of his heart, walking him through the song beat by beat.

His fingers moved on their own. As they always had. As they always would, even when he inevitably had no one left to play with. Here they were again, strumming him through his last chance while he did everything he could to ruin it.

The crowd cheered at the right times, responded to Sylvain's calls, jumped in time to Ingrid's drums, shrieked as Dimitri and Felix played back to back. Normally, they'd lean against each other, rocking back and forth as though propped up against each other. But this night, the stunt felt like a battle. Dimitri pushed against Felix, forcing him to hunch forward until he pushed back. They shoved apart, both still playing, and the crowd cheered as it should.

The entire show went that way. When Felix was supposed to step forward so Sylvain could hang on his shoulder and sing at his face, his hand was tentative. When Felix was supposed to step up onto Sylvain's little box and take the spotlight, he kept a foot on the ground, holding back. The crowd sensed it, responding in kind, their cheers wavering with uncertainty.

The last song approached like an executioner's blade, swinging slow and sure and deadly. Felix had held his own, but it wasn't a performance they'd be happy about. Already, he saw the looks from Dimitri and felt Dedue scowling from just offstage. This was probably it, the last time he'd perform on a real stage for a real crowd. He felt the seconds of this fantasy, this precious dream, ticking away, hurling him back toward cold reality.

They stepped off stage, getting water as the crowd chanted for the encore everyone knew was coming. Dimitri's glare had only intensified. Even Sylvain was grimacing. Ingrid squeezed Felix's shoulder.

“This is it,” she said.

“I know,” he said.

They stepped back up onto the stage to a swell of cheers. The venue was bright, part of the illusion of the encore being spontaneous, but it afforded Felix a brief glimpse at the crowd. He could see individual faces now, many of them turned toward him.

The door at the very back of the venue opened. In the breath before the lights dimmed, Felix saw him.

Ashe slipped into the concert venue. His eyes met Felix's across the long expanse of the room, bright and wide and shining like chips of jade.

Then the lights dimmed and Ashe disappeared among the black.

Felix's fingers moved.

This time, however, it wasn't pure instinct. It wasn't raw survival or desperate hope. Felix played, pouring his hands across the neck of his guitar as though the instrument was just an extension of his arms. He drew out the music within, spinning it like a spider building a web, tugging each string into place to create a tapestry meticulously woven strand by strand.

When Sylvain encouraged him to the front of the stage, Felix stayed there only a moment. He struck the final chord of the solo, letting the music splash out over the crowd. Then he pulled his guitar off over his head, dropping it with a heavy thud. And he left.

Felix walked off the end of the stage, jumping to the ground. The crowd gasped and surged. The guards jerked, shoving back eager fans.

But Felix simply kept walking. 

Sylvain was belting out a final note. Ingrid's drums and Dimitri's bass had gone silent. Felix leapt the gate and waded into the crowd, pushing against grabbing hands. The guards worked frantically, but they couldn't stop half the people trying to reach for Felix's arms and shirt. He shoved himself forward, working against the tide, and finally, finally, he broke free.

Ashe stood at the back of the venue, his eyes just as wide and startled as when he'd walked in at the start of the song. Felix strode right up to him.

“I'm sorry,” Ashe said. “I didn't mean--”

But he got no further before Felix grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him close, smothering his apology with a kiss. Ashe made a startled noise against Felix, his hands going to Felix's shoulders. Then he relaxed, his fingers wandering to Felix's neck to pull him close. Felix tasted mint and cinnamon and the cool, crisp night air. And if Dimitri hated him even more or if the crowd pulled at him or if every guitar string he had left snapped, he didn't know it.

For that one moment, Ashe was the one creating music, singing so loudly in Felix's chest and against his lips that there were no other sounds left in all the world.

Felix gasped when they finally broke apart. He was still holding Ashe's shirt; Ashe was still clinging to his neck. Pink lit Ashe's cheeks, his freckles like fireflies against the sunset.

“Thank you for coming,” Felix said.

“You're ... you're welcome,” Ashe said.

Then the guards reached them, pulling them apart, and Felix was whisked out of the crowd and backstage, his hands and heart suddenly light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe isn't sure how to react to being kissed by the lead guitarist of his favorite band. Things get even more surreal when Felix shows up at his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashe Week 2020 Day 2! Prompt is "past/future." Poor Ashe's past certainly comes into play. 
> 
> Enjoy some band AU fluff! This is full of silly tropes and indulgent bullshit and I will not apologize for any of it.

Ashe touched his lips as he fumbled for the keys to his apartment. He could still taste Felix against them, intense and eager, pressing harder every moment as though trying to somehow get even closer. 

Ashe dropped his keys and had to root around in the dark for them. His hands were still quivering when he finally managed to unlock his door and tip toe inside. 

He didn't bother turning on the lights, leaving his keys on the counter as he crept inside. Two darker puddles of black lay on the couch, twin bundles huddled in blankets. 

Ashe sighed. He nudged his siblings awake, chiding them back to the single bedroom in the apartment. They tried to protest but were mostly asleep by the time he herded them to the mattresses on the floor and closed the bedroom door. 

Ashe shrugged off his hoodie, brushed his teeth and returned to the couch, where he curled up in blankets. He should have been exhausted. He'd woken early to get Rowan and Fina ready for school, then gone to work himself and even squeezed in a few errands before heading to the concert.

But the memory of the show twisted his stomach, making it impossible to sleep. He could smell Felix around him, his mildly spicy deodorant, the products in his hair, the sweat he'd built up during the show. The scent was warm and strong and refused to fade even as Ashe begged his heart to stop racing so he could sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw amber ones staring back at him across the crowded concert venue, piercing and golden like a wolf on the hunt. 

Ashe's stomach did a flip, betraying just how eagerly he'd let Felix catch him.

He was still quivering in the glare of those amber eyes when he smelled something burning and jolted awake. 

Ashe was on his feet in an instant, rushing to the kitchen to turn off the stove and discard the blackened pancake. He grabbed a towel, fanning at the fire alarm before it could start shrieking. 

Rowan and Fina skidded out of the bedroom a moment later. 

“Oh shoot,” Rowan said.

“Uh ... sorry,” Fina said.

Ashe was still blinking the sleep from his eyes. “What were you doing?” 

“We wanted to make you breakfast,” Rowan said. He scratched at his silver hair. “Guess we messed it up.” 

“It's fine,” Ashe said. “Just get ready for school. You're gonna be late.”

“No, we won't,” Fina said.

Ashe glanced at the stove top clock. “Yes, you will. Come on. Hurry.”

“Ashe. It's Saturday,” she said. 

“What?” He shook himself. The past week was such a blur. Had he really lost track of the days? 

Fina eased the pan out of his hands. “Sit down. Let us try again. Please.” 

Ashe gave up reluctantly. They couldn't really afford to waste even pancake batter, but he forced himself to relax while his younger siblings restarted breakfast. 

The second batch arrived misshapen but edible. Ashe had always been the cook in the family, even when his parents were still alive, but his siblings were coming along pretty well. His heart swelled with pride as he ate with Rowan and Fina on their mismatched couches, huddling in threadbare blankets. 

“Dishes before I get home, OK?” Ashe said as he collected his keys and wallet off the counter. 

“Yeah yeah,” Rowan said. 

Fina just waved.

Ashe shook his head, but he was smiling when he left the apartment, locking up behind him as he headed back down the hall and outside into the crisp autumn air. 

He dipped into the park along the waterfront as soon as he was able, following it most of the way to the grocery store. Leaves freckled the sidewalk, skittering across the concrete and into the river as the wind picked up. The sun struggled between the buildings clustered like clasped fingers, peeking between them in bursts of red and purple. Ashe huddled in his jacket. For all its beauty, the world had not yet warmed this morning. 

Ashe reached the place where he needed to leave the park and cross the road. He couldn't help remembering the time he'd run into Felix in just this spot, sighting him at the other end of the crosswalk. He still recalled the surprise widening those amber eyes, the way disbelief had softened and parted Felix's lips. Ashe touched his own mouth, reliving how those lips felt, how they tasted, how they groped against his mouth.

The crosswalk sign flashed. 10... 9...

Ashe startled out of his fantasy, sprinting across the intersection just as the sign blinked an angry, warning 0. 

Goddess help him, was he going to stumble around in a daze for the rest of his life from one kiss? But what a kiss. How often did a rock star jump off stage and pin a random groupie to the wall? OK, maybe the pinning hadn't happened. Yet. 

_Stop it,_ he chided himself. He blinked, realizing he'd walked right past the store and had to double back. He struggled through his shopping, referencing his hand-written list multiple times. The words were meaningless. He read “pasta noodles” about a dozen times before it was more than just noise in his brain. 

By the time he made it to the counter, he was thoroughly exasperated with himself and positive he'd forgotten at least one item. 

“$42.87,” the cashier said.

Ashe dug through his wallet. “Sorry, just a second,” he said. He started taking out cards—an old business card, a library card, a bus pass. A chill washed through him. Where was his credit card? Oh goddess. He'd gotten a drink at the bar attached to the venue before going into the concert; he'd needed the extra courage, he'd told himself. But after the kiss he'd ... he'd just left. 

“I'm so sorry,” Ashe said. “I ... need to put a few things back.” 

The cashier looked annoyed, but helped Ashe get things back into his basket. He left the line, returning as much as he could to the shelves. He had a debit card, but it didn't have much money on it. By the time he returned to the cashier, he had only half of what he'd originally tried to buy. It would be a lean week for him and his siblings. 

Ashe slouched home, dreading having to explain the whole embarrassing ordeal to Rowan and Fina. It was his fault for wasting money on concerts and drinks in the first place. Even with all his careful budgeting he couldn't suppress the pang of guilt at indulging himself – and costing them food because of it. 

He heard voices before he reached the door to his apartment. Rowan and Fina's, but also some third voice, a voice he didn't know. A voice that certainly didn't belong inside his apartment. 

Ashe's whole body went cold. He started running, bursting through the door in a near-panic for his siblings. When he made it inside he stopped short, blinking at the scene before him.

Felix sat on the floor in the living room with Rowan and Fina above him on the couch.

“What are you doing here?” Ashe said. It was blunt, brash, but Ashe was too stunned to say anything else.

Felix jolted to his feet and dug in his back pocket, pulling out a credit card. “Your card...”

Ashe walked through his own apartment in a daze, setting his grocery bags on the floor. Felix held out his credit card.

“They, uh, they assumed I might be able to return it to you,” Felix said. “I had to look up the address ... but you left your ID too so it was kinda ... easy to look up...” 

Felix pulled another card from his pocket. Ashe took both without bothering to look at them. He couldn't help gaping at Felix. His hair was bound up now, rather than loose like he wore it during shows. Even in ordinary jeans and a T-shirt, his lip piercings plain steel rather than long bolts, he couldn't quite manage to look plain. There was something strange and beautiful and captivating about Felix, even while he was clearly trying to blend in. Studs glinted in his ears. A tattoo trickled down one arm, bright swirls of color that disappeared into his shirt sleeve.

Ashe had a million questions, but the one that made it to his mouth first was perhaps the dumbest. “How did you get in?” 

“Your siblings let me in,” Felix said.

Ashe shifted his gaze to Rowan and Fina, who smiled sheepishly from the couch. “You just let a stranger in while I was gone?” he said. 

“He's not a stranger,” Fina said. “We recognized him right away.” 

“Yeah, we've seen those posters like a million times,” Rowan added. 

“OK, but we don't _know_ him and you let him in and I wasn't even here,” Ashe said. “It could have been dangerous.” 

“But it _wasn't_ dangerous, was it?” Fina said.

“That's not the point,” Ashe tried, but his voice sounded weak even to his own ears. He was having a hard time scolding the teenagers with Felix, _that_ Felix, just standing there in the living room of their shoddy little apartment. 

“I'm sorry,” Felix said. “I should have just dropped off your things and left.” 

“No,” Ashe said. It came out too quickly and he felt heat rise in his cheeks. “I mean, no, it's not your fault. They're supposed to know better.” 

“Well, even so,” Felix said. He shifted, awkward under the scrutiny of three pairs of bright green eyes. “Anyway,” he said, “I wanted to return your things because I—we—the whole band, I mean, we were hoping you'd come to our next practice.” 

“Me?” Ashe said. 

Felix scratched at his hair. “Yeah, I mean, it was mostly Ingrid's idea. You know our music better than anyone except us, really, and we just, uh, we thought it might be helpful ... having you there ... if you want.” Felix was glaring at his feet as though trying to bore holes through the floor. 

“I...” Ashe had to remind himself to breathe before he could go on. “I'd love that.” 

Felix's eyes flickered up, skittering away just as quickly. “Really?”

“Y-yes, I'd be honored.” 

“OK, well, it's Tuesday night at 8. I'll text you the address.” 

“OK,” Ashe said.

Felix stood, silent, still. Finally, he said, “I need your number.”

Ashe jerked as though pinched. “Oh! Yeah, sure, here, type yours in and call yourself.” 

Felix took his phone and started tapping at it. From the corner of his eye, Ashe saw his siblings gaping. When he caught them, Rowan made kissing faces until Ashe motioned for him to cut it out. 

“OK,” Felix said. “That should work. I'll get in touch, I guess.” 

“OK,” Ashe said. 

For a moment, Felix was motionless. Some desperate part of Ashe wondered if this would be like last night, if Felix would suddenly yank him close and kiss him. 

But Felix shook himself. “I should go,” he said, heading for the door.

Ashe's heart was still beating against his chest like a caged bird when he shut the door behind Felix. 

“Are you dating the guitarist from that band you like?” Fina said the instant the door closed.

“Is that why you got home so late yesterday?” Rowan added.

Ashe whirled toward his siblings. “Both of you, stop it. Help me with the groceries.”

They rolled their eyes in unison before slumping off the couch to help him. And it was good they did because Ashe tried to put the frozen vegetables in the cupboard and the milk in the freezer. Rowan and Fina shared an all-too knowing glance before fixing Ashe's absentminded errors.

#

Ashe checked the address again: 86 Spring St. The building before him looked like a warehouse or office, the nondescript door set into plain cream walls. He'd probably walked past it a hundred times and never even noticed it, but this was where Felix said to be.

He knocked, fidgeting as he waited. When he got no response, he tried the handle and found the door unlocked. 

Ashe stepped into a dimly lit hallway. Part of him wondered if he was about to get mugged or murdered in this weird building. As he paced the hall, he began to hear the faint, faltering notes of a guitar. 

A large glass window revealed Felix and the rest of the band, as well as their manager Dedue, sitting in a cramped little studio tuning up their instruments. Felix's fingers wandered over the strings of his guitar even as he talked with Ingrid, as though he didn't even realize he was doing it. 

It was Sylvain who noticed Ashe first, pointing and directing the entire band's attention to him. Ashe shrank back, clutching his phone against his chest, but Sylvain was already bounding across the room.

“Heya,” he said as he threw the door open. “Come on in. You're Ashe, right?” 

“Y-yes,” Ashe said. 

“Great timing,” Sylvain said. He ushered Ashe inside, keeping an arm around his shoulders as he introduced Dedue, Dimitri and Ingrid. “And that's Felix, though I guess you two have already met.” 

Ashe could feel his face flushing. It was a miracle Felix's glare didn't burn right through Sylvain.

“So, here's the deal,” Sylvain said, “we've got this new song and we were kind of hoping we could play it for you.” 

“For me?” Ashe said.

“Yeah,” Sylvain said. “You're our biggest fan. You know our music better than we do half the time. This song's a little different from most of our stuff, so we need a fresh perspective. How's that sound? Just listen and then tell us what you think?” 

Ashe nodded, incapable of speech.

“Awesome.” Sylvain scooped up a stool, placing it beside the one Dedue sat on. “Our manager Dedue here is a big teddy bear. Stay with him and we'll get this thing started.” 

Ashe settled on the stool while the band left to step into another area separated by glass. 

“N-nice to meet you,” Ashe said, offering a hand.

Dedue shook it. “I apologize for the trouble.” 

“It's no trouble, really,” Ashe said. 

“Hm.” Dedue folded his arms, watching the band set up on the other side of the glass. 

Sylvain's voice returned amplified by a microphone. “Just another minute. Then we'll be all set.” 

Dedue nodded. Ashe offered a thumbs up. Even that simple motion made him feel like he might topple off the stool. The unreality of the whole thing was giving him vertigo, making his head swim like he was spinning in circles on a carnival ride. Surely, any moment he'd wake back up to the cold reality of the little apartment he shared with his siblings. 

He resolved to enjoy the dream for as long as it happened to last. 

The band chatted behind the glass. Dimitri and Felix seemed to snarl something at each other. Then Ingrid clacked her drumsticks together, counting loudly, and the whole group slammed into action.

Ashe gripped the stool beneath him as the band launched into an aggressive, fast song. They had similar songs, but Sylvain was right—this one was different. It pushed, straining against the band's usual sound, rushing in places, cutting out abrasively in others. Ashe felt like he hardly had a moment to breathe as Sylvain alternated between singing and screeching, his screams as finely tuned as his melodies. 

When the solo hit, Felix's fingers moved in a blur, his whole hand sliding up and down the neck of the guitar. The sound was almost unnatural; surely, one person couldn't produce that much music on their own. If Ashe closed his eyes, it was like he was listening to two guitars battling each other, but when he reopened them it was just Felix, his hair slipping out of its bun as he strained over his instrument. 

It ended in a crash, Ingrid's drums cutting off as brutally as they'd started. The quiet that followed quivered and echoed, full of the lingering reverberations of the music. 

“Hm,” Dedue said beside him. But that was all. 

The band set down their instruments, rejoining Dedue and Ashe on the other side of the glass. 

“So?” Sylvain said. 

The entire band was watching Ashe now, waiting, eager. He withered under the scrutiny. 

“That was incredible,” Ashe said.

Sylvain grinned. “Hell yeah, I knew it.” 

“Be honest,” Ingrid said. “Was it too much?”

“No,” Ashe said. “Not at all.” 

“But you must have some critique,” Ingrid said. 

Ashe shrugged. The band was somehow even more intent now, seeming to loom as they clustered around the stool. 

“Tell us,” Felix said. “Be honest.” 

Ashe struggled for words. “I guess ... if I had to say something...” They leaned toward him. “The bass and guitar ... they were sort of ... fighting ... if that makes any sense.”

“I knew it,” Dimitri said. 

Felix glared at Dimitri, while Sylvain patted Ashe's shoulder. “Yes,” Sylvain said, “that's the good shit. That's what we need. Felix, you snagged us a secret weapon.” 

“Secret weapon?” Ashe said.

“Yeah,” Sylvain said. “You're gonna be our ears from now on.”

“Your ... wait,” Ashe said. “What do you mean, 'from now on?'”

“We need you at these practices,” Sylvain said. 

“If you want to,” Felix cut in. 

Ashe's mouth dropped open in disbelief. “I-I'd love to.” 

Sylvain pumped a fist. “Yes, I knew it. See? Easy sell. This is gonna be so great.” 

He went on, but Ashe hardly heard him. The band eventually continued their practice, grilling Ashe after every song. More than once Felix offered him an out, assuring him he could leave whenever he felt like it, but each time Ashe stayed. By the time he did finally leave, it was far later than he'd anticipated. 

Rowan and Fina gave him knowing looks when he got home, but he ignored the rolled eyes and hustled them off to bed. 

The next day, he got a text with the band's entire practice schedule. Ashe attended as many as he could, staying later than he intended each time, returning home to smirks from his siblings. Sometimes he went to the studio right from work, still dressed in his bakery uniform and with flour smudged on his hands and face. The band didn't seem to mind, especially when he started showing up with boxes of pastries and cakes that usually got thrown out at the end of the day.

Still, observing the band's practices was almost a second job. And between that, his real job and taking care of his siblings, Ashe soon found his schedule stretched and strained. He nearly fell asleep in the back room one day, only jerking back awake when his boss came in to berate him for it. 

“Ashe.”

He jerked. “I'm sorry, Mr. Eisner,” he said. 

It was not his boss crouched before him, however, but Felix, his hand on Ashe's shoulder. “Oh.” Ashe looked around. The studio was dark and empty save for him and Felix. 

“Everyone else left,” Felix said. 

“Did I sleep through the whole practice?” Ashe said.

“Just most of it,” Felix said. “Come on.” 

He helped Ashe to his feet. His guitar was in a case on his back. Ashe followed him out of the studio and down the dark hall toward the exit. Felix stopped just before the door. 

“Hey,” Felix said. “Look, I ... We're pushing you too hard. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to do this.”

“It's OK,” Ashe said. “Really. I enjoy it.”

Felix shook his head. “You're clearly exhausted. You're not even part of the band. There's nothing in this for you.”

“I like it,” Ashe said. “I want to help.”

“I know,” Felix said. “But you can't run yourself ragged for us. There's no point.” 

“Sure there is,” Ashe said. “I mean, what other fan gets to do something like this? What other fan gets to help their favorite band make more music? I feel lucky.”

Felix flinched. “You shouldn't. We're taking advantage of you. It's not right.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out an envelope that he presented to Ashe.

“What is this?” Ashe said. The envelope was heavy. When he peeked inside, it was full of cash. “What is this?” he asked again, anger edging his voice. 

“It's for your time,” Felix said. “The band got it together. We feel bad.” 

“No.”

“What?” 

“No,” Ashe said, snapping, too loud, his chest getting tight. 

“I-I'm sorry?” Felix said.

“I don't need your pity cash,” Ashe said.

“That's not—”

“I get it,” Ashe said. “You saw my apartment. You met my siblings. How much did they tell you? Did they say that we're poor? Did they say that we've lost not one father, but two? What was it that made you decide to pity us?” 

“They didn't say anything,” Felix said. “Ashe, this isn't about—”

“No,” Ashe cut him off. “I know exactly what it's about.” 

He shoved the envelope back at Felix, storming out of the studio. His throat closed up around the sobs trying to bubble out. All this time, they'd just been pitying him. He thought he was helping; he thought they might actually like him.

Felix grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. Ashe whirled toward him, scrubbing at his eyes. They didn't deserve his tears. 

“Ashe, please,” Felix said. “This is a misunderstanding.”

“Let me go,” Ashe said. Felix released his arm, but reluctantly, as though afraid Ashe would flee the moment he could. 

“We just wanted to compensate you,” Felix said. 

“I don't want 'compensation,'” Ashe said. 

“I'm sorry,” Felix said. “We didn't know. I swear.”

Ashe shook his head. How could Felix not know? He'd seen where Ashe lived. He'd talked to Rowan and Fina. Ashe's chest ached. How stupid he'd been, thinking someone like Felix could actually like him. He was beautiful and talented and might one day be famous. Ashe had been an idiot, a hopeless, optimistic fool. 

“Ashe,” Felix said. 

“I want to go home,” Ashe said. “Please. I just want to go home.”

“I'm not going to stop you,” Felix said, “but I wish we could talk.” 

Ashe shook his head. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to shatter this dream even further. 

He heard Felix sigh. “OK. Will I see you again?”

Ashe looked up. Felix was watching him like he'd watch smoke dissipating, wafting out of reach. “I don't know,” Ashe said, and he left, walking alone through the dark.

#

Ashe didn't return to practice. Felix didn't ask.

Ashe went back to the normal rhythm of his life, looking after Rowan and Fina, working at the bakery, picking up extra shifts where he could. It was easier, he had to admit, without also attending the band's practices and shows. But it was hollow. Ashe moved through the motions of his life like an observer, a ghost watching from the other side of the glass. 

Ashe sat in the dark of the living room, bundled in blankets but unable to sleep. He had too much unspent energy. Just about the only important or interesting part of his day was greeting his siblings after he got home from work, hearing their stories about school, cooking for them. He loved Rowan and Fina more than anything else in the world, but their lives weren't his. Again, he was just an observer, watching from the outside but not truly part of their complicated teenage dramas. 

Ashe sighed, looking at his phone. It was dark, quiet. With the band no longer in his life, the couple messages he got were just his siblings asking for snacks from the bakery. 

He set the phone aside. It had been so nice, thinking he had friends, thinking people simply _liked_ him. 

In the days since that last practice, he'd started to fear his reaction to the envelope of money had perhaps been too severe. Felix and the others couldn't have known. They hadn't seen the way people took pity on him his whole life, treating him like a child even as he raised his siblings, found them a place to live, fought and scraped so they could all survive. He just couldn't stand to have the band looking at him sadly the way so many others had before. 

He heard a soft scrape outside his door. If it weren't for how still he was sitting, he might have missed it. 

Ashe rose, the blankets still hugged around him, and shuffled to the door. When he peered through the peephole, he saw Felix in the hall, his hand raised as though he was about to knock. Ashe froze, hardly daring to breathe, but the knock didn't come. Felix lowered his hand, mumbling to himself, shifting from foot to foot. He turned away, starting back down the hall. 

Ashe rushed to open the door. Felix stopped, spinning toward the sound. For a moment they both stood silently, staring at each other across an expanse of tense, waiting words. 

Ashe spoke first. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to apologize,” Felix said. “We all did. The band sent me.” 

“You already apologized,” Ashe said. 

“Even so,” Felix said. He scratched at his hair, shifting from foot to foot. “Fuck it. I … I don't like repeating myself. I just wanted to talk, or try to.” 

“Why didn't you text?” Ashe said.

“I was afraid you'd just ignore it. I thought maybe this way ... you'd ... it would mean more.” 

Ashe let him squirm. Perhaps it was cruel, but he deserved at least a little discomfort from Felix. “OK,” he said at last.

Felix looked up, hopeful. “OK?”

“Come in. Let's talk.” 

Ashe left the door open as he returned to the couch. He heard Felix enter behind him, closing the door softly and taking off his shoes. They settled awkwardly at opposite ends of the couch.

“So—”

“Look, I—”

They both stopped. Ashe waved. “You go.” 

Felix sighed. “I just ... I didn't mean anything by offering you that money. I really didn't. It seemed ... fair. That's all. Honestly.” 

“I believe you,” Ashe said. 

“Then why are you still mad?” 

“I'm not mad,” Ashe said. “I'm more ... it sounds stupid but ... hurt.” 

Felix glanced over at him, eyebrows curling. 

“People have always taken pity on us,” Ashe said. “What I told you that first night about my father dying, I don't even usually mention it anymore. I just—I don't want any more pity. We survived. We're OK. I just want people to treat me normally. I thought that you and the band, maybe, maybe you actually liked me. Maybe I was becoming your friend. But then...” 

Felix's hands were clasped so tightly his knuckles were turning white. “I—we do like you. We weren't lying.” 

“I know,” Ashe said. “Now, I know. It was just that moment when you offered me that money, it was like every other time someone's just seen me as something to pity.” 

Felix hunched forward, unknotting his hands to hide his face in them. “Fuck,” he moaned quietly. 

“It's OK,” Ashe said. 

Felix shook his head, looking over at Ashe. “It's not.” 

“I'm not mad anymore,” Ashe said. “I just—I'm not sure if I could go back to practice at this point.”

“I don't care about practice,” Felix said. “Gods damn it. I'm not here because of the band. I'm here because ... because I wanted to come here. I wanted ... to see you.”

Ashe blinked. “Oh.” 

Felix clasped his hands in that iron grip again. “I fucked this all up. Ingrid told me, but I didn't listen. It wasn't the band's idea to give you that money. It was mine. I was afraid you'd stop coming, that it wouldn't be worth your time. And I ... wanted you to stay.” Felix was studying those white-knuckled hands. Even in the dark Ashe could see color climbing up his neck. “I just wanted to spend time with you.” 

Ashe's breath got trapped in his throat. His voice emerged small and faint. “You could have asked.” 

Felix shook his head. “I was too afraid you'd say no.”

Ashe reached over, setting his hand atop Felix's. Felix flinched. “Of course I would have said yes,” Ashe said. 

Felix glanced up under twisting eyebrows. 

“You're so talented,” Ashe said. “And interesting and cool and...” Ashe swallowed. “And ever since that one time I haven't been able to stop thinking about...” _About your lips. About feeling them again. About kissing you until I run out of breath._ But Ashe couldn't bring himself to say any of that. 

Felix was looking at him, his mouth parted, his eyes boring through the dark like flames. “Me too,” he said. His gaze flickered down to where Ashe's hand lay atop his.

Ashe jerked it back as though burned, and perhaps he had been in the heat of the look Felix fixed him with then. 

Felix scooted closer, folding his legs on the couch so their knees nearly touched. “Ashe,” he said, “I didn't pity you. I ... I wanted you. And I didn't know how to convince you to stay.” 

“Just ask,” Ashe said. 

Felix brushed Ashe's hair off his face, his fingers lingering along Ashe's jaw. “Can I—”

“Yes,” Ashe said before he could finish. He leaned forward in a surge. Felix met him along the way and their lips crashed together, clumsy and fumbling, sliding into place like magnets pushed apart and pulling against the forces of the universe to reunite. 

It was everything Ashe remembered and more. His daydreams and memories had offered only a blurry mirage, a half-truth. The reality was so much better. 

Felix's mouth caressed Ashe's even as his hands slipped behind Ashe's neck to pull him closer. Ashe held onto Felix's shoulders, searching for something steady as the world rocked. He could feel Felix's piercings against his mouth, strange and shocking. Ashe melted beneath Felix, laying back on the couch. Felix crawled over him, never letting their mouths part as he straddled Ashe to kiss him into the cushions. 

The bedroom door opened. 

Ashe gasped, shoving Felix back. He threw a blanket over Felix, hugging him against his body as he covered him up. Ashe struggled to breathe normally as Rowan or Fina shuffled out of the bedroom and to the bathroom. He felt Felix go rigid against him, lying perfectly still. The sink hissed. The bathroom light flickered out. The bedroom door re-opened. 

Ashe threw back the blanket when he was sure it was safe again. Felix tried to crawl back up toward his mouth, but Ashe stopped him. 

“We can't,” Ashe said. “Not here.” 

“Come to my place,” Felix said.

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

And goddess, how Ashe ached to assent. The heat of that single word sent shockwaves through Ashe's body, the soft, breathy sound burning with promises. 

But Ashe forced himself to shake his head. “I can't. They have school. I can't just leave.” 

Felix's jaw flexed as though he was biting something back, but he nodded. “Tomorrow?” 

“Friday. OK?” 

“Friday,” Felix said. He leaned forward, stealing another kiss, lingering just a beat too long, groaning as he pulled away. 

Ashe lay in the dark long after he left, unable to sleep but for wholly different reasons than when the night began.

#

“Gods, Ashe, slow down. We didn't even get to see the last one before you changed it,” Fina said.

“OK, OK,” Ashe said. He rushed out of the bedroom, opening his arms wide to show off a button down shirt.

Rowan wrinkled his nose. “It's kinda stuffy,” he said.

“Yeah, relax, Ashe,” Fina said. “Go with the one from before. It's more casual.”

Ashe ran back to the bedroom, quickly switching the button down for a T-shirt. When he emerged, his siblings nodded. 

“Better,” Fina said.

“Way better,” Rowan said. 

“OK,” Ashe said. He flitted around the apartment, stuffing his keys and wallet and phone into his pockets, grabbing a hoodie, checking the fridge for the leftovers he'd made. “You have food. There's no school tomorrow but don't go far. I should be home tonight but you'll probably be asleep. You can call or text any time.”

Fina took him by the arms. “Ashe, stop.” 

He paused in his frantic flight. 

“We're gonna be fine,” Fina said. “We have everything we need. We won't leave the apartment. We can manage to work the microwave for a night.”

“OK, but seriously, call if you need me.”

“We won't need you,” Fina said. “And you better not come home tonight.” 

Ashe felt his cheeks heating up. Fina laughed, shoving him toward the door. “Go!” she said. “Don't be late.” 

And just like that he was walking down the hall. The crisp air outside wasn't enough to shock him back to his senses. Ashe could hardly feel his legs beneath him as he paced the familiar pathways through the city. 

Felix's apartment wasn't far from the studio, and therefore not far from Ashe's place either. It was crazy thinking they'd lived so close for so long and not even known it. 

Ashe typed in an apartment number and the door to a towering, lean building buzzed. Ashe stepped into an entryway sharp with the scent of cleaning products, then took the elevator up to the 8th floor. He fidgeted with his phone, checking it over and over to be sure he was in the right place. When he knocked on door 809, he got no response and nearly bolted.

Then the door opened and Ashe was gaping at Felix, just as beautiful as he remembered, perhaps more so with two days of waiting and yearning to make those amber eyes seem even more bright and striking. His hair was up in a bun, stray strands of blue-black framing his face in wisps like smoke. His tattoo curled down his arm, exposed by a T-shirt.

Felix gnawed nervously as his lip piercings. “Come in,” he said.

Ashe stepped inside, kicking off his shoes. The apartment was large; Ashe's could probably fit inside it three times over. The kitchen sprawled to one side, bottles of liquor glinting like potions on a shelf along one wall. Felix took down a bottle. 

“You want something?” 

“OK,” Ashe said. 

“Is wine alright?” 

Ashe nodded. He gaped at the rest of the spacious apartment while Felix fetched glasses and poured the wine. It seemed all the more massive for its sparseness. If Ashe didn't know better, he might have believed Felix was some struggling student or something. He had little more than a couch, a table and a television, leaving huge sections of the living space starkly bare. 

“Here,” Felix said, handing Ashe a glass.

“You have this whole place?” Ashe said.

“Yeah.” Felix shrugged. “No idea what to do with it though.” He clinked his glass against Ashe's and they both drank. The wine was cool and fruity, but bitterness chased the sweet taste down Ashe's throat. 

“Sorry,” Felix said. “Do you hate it?” 

“No,” Ashe said. “I was just surprised.” 

“Oh.” 

They lapsed into silence, both sipping to ease the awkwardness. The prior night on Ashe's couch only made this current moment feel more heavy and uncomfortable. Ashe took a large gulp of the wine, then set his glass aside. 

“Your apartment is nice,” Ashe said.

Felix shrugged again. “I, uh, are you hungry?” 

“No,” Ashe said. 

“Oh.” Felix knocked back the rest of his wine in a gulp and set his glass beside Ashe's. “So, um...” 

“Felix,” Ashe said. He felt a little quiver run through him. It felt nice even just saying his name, feeling it on his tongue. It felt even nicer seeing Felix's attention snap to him at the sound. “I don't really want to talk.” 

Felix's face changed in a flash, going from uncertainty and anxiety to raw, unfiltered hunger. He swept toward Ashe, slipping one hand around his waist even as the other cupped his face. And once again those lips were against Ashe's mouth, pushing, seeking, gasping, his piercings hard intrusions that Ashe wanted to hold in his teeth. Felix's tongue slipped past Ashe's lips, licking at the roof of his mouth. Ashe heard himself moan and Felix's grip tightened. 

Felix started moving, walking them both toward the bedroom even while keeping their mouths together. It was an awkward business and when the back of Ashe's knees hit the edge of the bed they both tumbled in a heap onto the mattress. 

Then Felix was on top of him, his hands going to Ashe's waist, tugging at his shirt. His deft fingers worked quickly to get Ashe's shirt over his head and onto the floor. His knee pressed up against Ashe's crotch as Felix started kissing down Ashe's neck. He chewed at Ashe's earlobe and Ashe gasped, arching up against Felix, clutching at his back. Every kiss and lick was a stone thrown into a pond, the ripples making every part of Ashe tremble. 

Ashe grabbed at Felix's shirt, interrupting Felix to get it off him. He was surprisingly toned and lean beneath it, strong shoulders rolling into a smooth, sculpted chest. Ashe glimpsed the full extent of his tattoos: Blue flames coiled around his arm and burned up to his shoulder, a phoenix shrieking within them. The flames turned to starlight as they spilled down one side of his chest to his ribs. Ashe was sure even from that glimpse that there was more on his back.

Ashe didn't get to investigate further. Felix was back on him, pressing their bare chests together, sucking at Ashe's neck to draw out yelps and whimpers. That in itself might have been enough, but Felix was relentless, his hand wandering down Ashe's body to rub over his jeans. Even through the thick fabric, Ashe could feel Felix's strong stroke. He rolled his hips, pushing up into the pressure. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched like this. He'd hardly had time since having to raise his siblings, making every previous opportunity brief and fleeting. Nothing like this, for despite Felix's frantic urgency, he seemed to savor each moment, lingering in every place that made Ashe moan or whine or clutch or writhe. 

Ashe reached for Felix's face, bringing Felix's mouth back up to his. He didn't want this to be over too soon. Not when it was so good; not when it felt overdue by entire lifetimes. Ashe slowed them both, savoring a deep, lingering kiss. Their bodies squirmed against each other, rolling and pushing. 

Felix eased away, more gently this time, and started undoing his own pants. Ashe watched, breathless, as the garment fell away. 

Felix started to reach for Ashe's pants next, but Ashe stopped him, tugging at the waistband of his boxers. 

“That's unfair,” Felix rasped. 

“Shh,” Ashe said, smirking up at him. 

He pulled the boxers down, running a finger up Felix's exposed cock. It twitched from the touch and Felix made a faltering little noise in his throat. Before the moment could feel too surreal, Ashe pushed Felix back on the bed and crawled over him, stroking Felix's cock in his hand. He licked up it, savoring the gasp he got in return. Then Ashe got his mouth over Felix's cock and ran his lips down the shaft. Felix moaned, threading his fingers through Ashe's hair. He didn't grab or pull, just stroked at Ashe's hair while Ashe started pumping up and down the cock in his mouth. Ashe almost wished he would pull; the softness was harder to bear just then. But he could wait. 

First... He tightened his lips, squeezing with a hand, sending his tongue out to lick at the head as he slid back up. Felix yelped in surprise and Ashe felt his body shudder. He sat up, putting his hands on Ashe's shoulders to pause him. 

“Fuck,” Felix breathed. 

Ashe smiled, biting his lip to keep the grin from spreading, and Felix's face darkened. 

“You can't do that,” Felix said, swiping a finger along Ashe's lips. “It's ... too hot.” 

Before Ashe could even feel surprised, Felix shoved him down on the bed. This time, Felix got to Ashe's pants unimpeded, yanking them down, throwing jeans and boxers across the room. Felix got both their cocks in his grip, stroking them at once. Ashe couldn't stop the startled, yearning, pleasant cry that passed his lips. Felix paused, looking down at him, his eyes raking over Ashe's body like he was committing every curve and ridge to memory.

He leaned down, still holding both their cocks. Felix's lips brushed Ashe's on their way to Ashe's ear. “Let's see how many more of those noises you can make,” Felix said. His words blew hot against Ashe's throat.

Then he started stroking, his hand running over both of them. Ashe could feel the callouses on his fingertips, the heat of his palm. He was sure and steady and Ashe couldn't help thinking about the way Felix's hand moved along the neck of his guitar as he played. 

Ashe couldn't stop the noises Felix drew out of him, pathetic and pleading as they were. Felix only stroked harder, quicker, playing a frantic tune punctuated by Ashe's gasps. He arched in Felix's hand, into the friction of their cocks pressed together. 

Felix folded forward, and now it wasn't just Felix's hand but also his body pressing down against Ashe. Heat built between them, their bodies slick against each other. Ashe reached for Felix's neck and shoulders, pulling him closer as Felix made their bodies sing. Felix's mouth dove for Ashe's, swallowing his moans and rasps. It only made Ashe want to cry out more loudly, even as he finally got his teeth on those piercings and gave them a tug.

He felt his body hitch, threatening to explode, and pushed Felix away urgently. “I'm close,” he gasped. 

“Good,” Felix said. Then his mouth was back on Ashe's, his hand somehow pumping even faster. 

Ashe clung to his shoulders, nails digging in. Even with Felix's mouth covering his, Ashe heard his voice squeezing past their joined lips, quivering in the stillness beyond their bodies. 

Felix gasped, hitching forward, his mouth leaving Ashe's as he buried his face against his shoulder. He nipped at the skin between shoulder and neck, even as his grip tightened and his cock twitched. Ashe arched, crying out from the barrage of sensations: Felix's teeth, his hand, his shivering cock, his body hot and writhing atop Ashe's. Finally, Ashe responded in kind, bucking up as his whole body seemed to release all at once. Felix kept his hand in place until they were both spent, both sighing and limp and suddenly still. 

Felix stayed atop him for a moment. Ashe could feel his breaths calming, could feel the warmth and wetness where their torsos met, the stuttering of their hearts beating close together as though trying to meet. 

Felix pushed himself up on his hands, just enough to look down at Ashe. He brushed his fingers against Ashe's face, giving him a slow, soft kiss.

Ashe felt cold when Felix got off him. He closed his eyes, still trying to catch his breath. Ashe floated in the warmth of the afterglow while Felix moved about the dark bedroom. 

Felix settled on the edge of the bed. “Towel?”

Ashe reluctantly sat up, accepting a towel and cleaning himself up. Goddess, was it over already? The walk home would be so cold. He wished... He shook off the thought, afraid to even consider it. 

Felix tossed the dirty towel aside. “Thank you for coming here tonight,” he said. 

“I'm glad I did,” Ashe said. 

“Really?”

Ashe struggled not to laugh. It was too absurd though, the idea of Felix sitting there unsure and nervous. He smiled instead. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

He started to rise, but Felix caught his wrist, keeping him beside him on the bed. “Where are you going?” 

“To get my clothes,” Ashe said. 

“You sleep in clothes?” Felix said.

“What? No. I mean, boxers. Maybe a shirt. But I need to get home.” 

“Oh.” Felix's grip lightened. His voice deflated in the span of that simple word.

“Is something wrong?” 

Felix shook his head. “No. I just thought ... I assumed you'd sleep here.” 

Despite all that had just occurred, Ashe felt his cheeks getting hot. “Oh.”

Felix rushed on. “I mean, it's not a big deal. You don't have to. I just thought that since it's so late, and the weather and all, that you'd want to...”

“It's not that I don't want to,” Ashe said. “I just...”

Felix watched him with what Ashe could only label as hope. 

“I didn't think ... you would ... like that,” Ashe said.

He saw Felix swallow. “Well, I would.”

“You would...?”

“I'd like it,” Felix said, talking at his knees. “If you stayed.” 

“O...OK,” Ashe said. “OK. I'll stay.” 

Felix looked up at him. “Alright.” 

Ashe's body sang once more than night. And again the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!
> 
> Join the [Ashelix discord](https://discord.gg/cjFuCx) to hear my incoherent screeching about my beloved rarepair! (Ask me for link if it's expired!)


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